


Silver Glass

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: Relativistic Heat Conduction [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Afterlife, Character Death, Death, Established Relationship, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5230550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>“I would wait forever,” Tony tells him, mouth still soft and warm on his neck, “but no,” he says, “not long.”</em>  Something of a coda to Relativistic Heat Conduction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Glass

“Hey.”

The voice is quiet, and Steve feels like he would be startled by it, coming out of nowhere like that, but it feels like nothing can startle him anymore.  He turns, and sees Tony coming out of the darkness around him, walking toward Steve.  He’s wearing a dark tank top and jeans, soft and old, and he’s in his stocking feet; he walks with a grace and a swagger that Steve hasn’t seen in him in what feels like forever, and his hair falls in soft waves, not quite curling, over his forehead, over his ears.  He smiles a little, open and soft, and Steve thinks it’s one of the most open expressions he’s ever seen on his face.

“Hey there,” he says in return.  His throat feels dry, and he has to wet his lips before he can speak.  He’s almost afraid that Tony isn’t real.

That this won’t last.

Tony stops in front of him, slides a thumb through one of his belt loops.  "Everything worked out?“ he says.  He’s smiling, a little, crookedly, and his blue eyes are bright and sharp, not dead, dull, the way Steve saw them so recently.  "You took your time.  Not that I was in any hurry.”

“It’s all worked out,” Steve tells him, and as he does, feels the weight lift off his shoulders.  He feels inexpressibly light, suddenly.  "It’s all over.  We did it.  They’ll live their lives now.“

Tony’s face relaxes.  He looks satisfied.  "I knew it,” he says, and then his mouth softens, the curve of it turns warm.  "My hero,“ he says, and reaches up with one hand, brushes his thumb against Steve’s cheek, curls his fingers under his jaw.  Steve’s skin tingles; he feels warm all through, and he turns his head, pushes his cheek into Tony’s warm, work-roughened palm, his throat seizing up as Tony holds him there, so gently.  "I knew you would do it,” Tony says, more softly.

“I couldn’t let you die for nothing,” Steve manages, bites his lip and reaches out, lets his hand curve around Tony’s waist, slide him close with one hand on the compact, muscular arch of the small of his back.  He’s almost afraid for a moment that Tony will disappear, but he doesn’t; he is real and warm under Steve’s hand.  He reaches up, slides his hand into Tony’s hair.  It is clean and soft and curls slightly against his fingers, thick and springy, and he sinks his fingers into it, holds on.

“Or you,” Tony says with wry, gentle humor, then, “hey, hey, Steve, sweetheart, I’m here.”  His hand comes up to flatten gently at the back of Steve’s neck, and tilt Steve’s head down.  Their foreheads touch.  Steve feels so warm.

“I told him,” he breathes, barely whispers.  Tony’s back is so warm and sturdy beneath his hand.  Strong.  He can feel him breathing.  "Told you.  The other you.  How much–how much I love you.“

Tony takes a long, slow breath, blows it out.

"They’ll have their chance,” Steve whispers.

“I better not mess it up,” Tony says, and his eyes look far away, just for a moment.

“Hey, mister, none of that,” Steve tells him, reaching up to touch a thumb gently to the side of Tony’s mouth, trace the lines of his beard.  "They’ll figure it out, and … and they’ll have everything we didn’t.“  His throat feels thick and his chest aches, like an echo of the pain that was all through him what feels like just moments ago, making it so hard to breathe.  "They will.”  He’s certain of it, somehow, in a way he wasn’t before that moment.

“A real date?” Tony asks, murmurs, low.  His blue eyes look so bright in the darkness.  Steve never wants to look away.

“Yeah,” he says.  It doesn’t seem quite so important now.  He wraps his arms tighter around Tony, presses his eyes closed, pulls him close.  "I knew you would be here,“ he says.  "I knew.”

“Shhh, shhh,” Tony says, softly, warmly, tightens his hand at the back of Steve’s neck, tousles his fingers in his hair.  "Someone had to be here to wait for you, Winghead.  Someone’s gotta have your back.  Might as well be me.“

Steve’s breath chokes in his throat on a laugh.  "I missed you,” he breathes.

“I missed you, too,” Tony says, soft, barely on a breath, and presses a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck, over the pulse, then another.

“Were you waiting long?” Steve asks, curls his hands more firmly around Tony’s waist, closes his eyes to revel in the kisses, the soft brush of Tony’s mouth, his facial hair.

“I would wait forever,” Tony tells him, mouth still soft and warm on his neck, “but no,” he says, “not long.”

Steve hugs him tight, suddenly, around the waist, and he must surprise him, because Tony’s hands come up for a moment, hover, and he breathes in a breath of surprise, freezing for a split second before his hands fall again, to Steve’s shoulder, to rest against his hair, even as Steve pushes his face in against his shoulder, spans his slim strong back with his hands, big handfuls of Tony.

“I love you, Shellhead,” he murmurs, and Tony gives a soft little laugh like he never heard from him in life.

“I’m starting to believe that, now,” he says, and his arms curl around Steve’s shoulders.  "Kiss me, sugar,“ he purrs, and grins up at him when Steve looks down the tiny space between their heights.  "We only have forever, but I don’t want to wait.”

Steve kisses him, and Tony kisses back, his mouth opening perfectly, soft and welcoming and warm and wanting, and he tastes like Tony, a touch of the tang of metal, coffee, and breath mints, but it feels like eternity, like coming home, like Steve will never have to give anything up, never have to be lonely, ever again.  Tony is warm and perfect in his arms and rocking up to meet him, and when Steve pulls away, he can hardly breathe and his eyes sting, and Tony grins.

“There are other people who want to see you,” he says.

“Bucky?” Steve gasps.  Of course.  Of course, he’ll be here.  And Natasha, and Sue, and Sam, and Jan, and all of them–

“He was pretty eager,” Tony says, grinning, like this is his chance to give Steve the best news in the world, like it’s Christmas morning and he’s five years old, “but there was someone else who wanted to say hi first, and she’s been waiting longer.”  He presses in closer, fits himself into Steve’s arms, and steals another kiss.  "Come on, big guy,“ he murmurs, "Introduce me to your mom.”

Steve feels his heart swell up, he feels warm all over, and as Tony works his hand down, sliding it down Steve’s side, then winkling it in to take his and curl his fingers around Steve’s, he can hardly breathe, as light grows around them, and everything seems to shift.

They walk toward it, and neither of them look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Very much aided along in terms of inspiration for [ironfries](http://ironfries.tumblr.com/)’ gorgeous [art for Relativistic Heat Conduction](http://ironfries.tumblr.com/post/52030366312/dont-worry-steve-told-him-itll-be-okay). Thank you so, so much. It’s perfect.


End file.
